The Job (New York City Bad Boy Romance #2)

by Claire Adams

  “What’s up?” I ask when there’s a break in the conversation.

  “Oh, aren’t you a handsome one?” the woman asks. “My name is Delilah.”

  “I’m Eric,” I tell her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Jessica here was just telling me about you,” Delilah says, “something about a nice dick?”

  “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Jessica asks me and, before I can say yes, she’s on her feet, stumbling into me.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I just need a bit of fresh air.”

  “Where’s Cheryl?” I ask. “I thought you were out with her.”

  “Well, we got together and talked about some things, but she didn’t want to come to the bar,” Jessica answers.

  I help her outside, and once the sun is in her face, she takes a deep breath.

  “Would you mind taking me home?” she asks.

  “I took a cab, but I’ll be happy to make sure you get there safe.”

  “I drove,” she says. “I can’t drive home for obvious reasons, though.”

  “Sure,” I tell her and ask for her keys.

  “Yeah, that’s part of the problem,” Jessica says. “I kind of made a little wager with Delilah in there that kind of lost, so I ended up paying for drinks for both of us, only I didn’t have enough money to cover all of it, so I gave her my car keys for collateral. You’re going to need to go in there and pay the balance on my tab and get the keys from her. I don’t think it should be much more than a hundred dollars.”

  “A hundred dollars?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll pay you back when you take me home, I just didn’t remember to bring enough for evverry eventuality.”

  “Come in with me, stand at the end of the bar near the door and don’t talk to anyone or order any drinks or do anything but wait for me, okay?” I tell her.

  I’ve never been to this place before, but I’ve got a really bad vibe as I go back in. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that nearly everyone in the room is staring at me.

  They’re not goths and they’re not ravers. They’re not the typical club or bar crowd either. I’m not sure how to describe the clientele other than to say that they appear very territorial and I seem to be infringing on that territory at the moment.

  Still, we can’t really get out of here until I get Jessica her keys back.

  I walk back down to the end of the bar and find Delilah.

  “Hey, you did come back,” she says. “I was wondering if you would.”

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “I understand that my friend owes some money for drinks, and I’m here to settle up and get her keys.”

  “All right, dearie,” Delilah says, and leans over the counter toward the bartender. “How much is my tab?”

  The bartender answers, “Two-fifty.”

  Fucking hell.

  “All right,” I answer and pull my wallet out of my pants pocket. I remove my card from inside and set it on the counter.

  “Too bad,” Delilah says. “I was really looking forward to taking that Merc out for a test drive.”

  “What was the bet?” I ask.

  “What was what?” Delilah responds, cupping a hand to the side of her ear.

  “What was the bet?” I ask again.

  “Oh,” Delilah nods. “She said that you wouldn’t come if she called you. The way she said it, I had a feeling that you would.”

  “You had a feeling?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Delilah says. “Listen, she’s not good for you. She doesn’t appreciate you. If you’ve got more in those pockets, I bet I could find you someone that’ll put a smile on your face without all the drama that one’s going to give you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not interested,” I tell her.

  “Too bad,” she says again.

  The bartender hands me back my card and I sign the receipt. I put the card in my wallet, my wallet in my pocket, and I turn back toward Delilah, saying, “Now, the keys if you don’t mind.”

  “You know we don’t bite,” she says.

  “I never said you did,” I answer. “I’d just like to get her home. It’s kind of a rough time.”

  “Oh, I think we all know about that, sweetie,” Delilah says and stands up to better access her front pocket. She pulls the keys out and holds them above my open hand but, before dropping them, she leans in close to my ear and says, “If you change your mind, give me a call.”

  She stuffs a piece of paper into my front pocket and drops the keys in my hand.

  “Ta-ta,” she mutters, and I force a smile as I turn to walk away.

  The problem is, Jessica’s nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Fifteen

  None of the Above

  Jessica

  “If you’re that worried about it,” Kristin says, “call him. If you would have told me that he was there, I would have walked over there, myself and we would have figured something out.”

  “How’s Mom doing?” I ask.

  “She’s going to be laid up for a while,” Kristin says. “They took out cartilage from a few of her joints, and they’re going to be taking her in for a scan later today to see if they got it all.”

  “How could they not be sure about something like that?” I ask, trying and failing to unlock my phone’s lock screen.

  “They’re just being cautious,” Kristin says. “How much did you drink? You know both Mom and Dad are going to flip the fuck out if they know you’re already drunk.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her.

  “Get your shit together, will you?” she asks. “You’re supposed to be the reasonable one and I’m supposed to be the drunken idiot.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?” I ask. “‘Get my shit together.’”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe dial down the drinking for starters. You’re not a heavyweight, so stop trying to act like one. And what the hell is going on with you and Eric?”

  “I have no idea,” I tell her and finally manage to unlock my phone. I find Eric’s number and call it.

  “You just left,” he says, answering the phone. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “I kind of got in touch with both you and my sister. We’re headed—” I turn to Kristin, “Where are we headed?”

  “You’re going home,” she says. “I’m going to the hospital to check up on Mom.”

  “I’m going with you,” I tell her.

  “Not like this, you’re not,” she retorts.

  “I’m either going home or to the hospital,” I tell him and turn back to Kristin. “I’m fine. I want to go to the hospital with you.”

  “You can come later today after you’ve had a shower, a nap and some coffee. And, you know, brush your teeth,” she says, holding her nose like a child.

  “If you want to meet me at my apartment, that would be okay,” I tell Eric.

  His sigh is very audible.

  “All right,” he says. “Is there anything I can pick up for you on my way?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, “I’m running low on vodka.”

  Kristin’s sitting in the driver’s seat, shaking her head. “You need to get your shit together, sissy.”

  Of all her terms for me that I don’t like, and there are many of them, “sissy” is the only one that actually pisses me off.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I ask her, covering the phone. “I can’t remember how many times I’ve picked you up from bars, parties… I’ve basically been your fucking designated driver since we were in high school.”

  “Yeah, and I’m finally starting to see why that pissed you off so much,” she says. “Mom’s in the hospital. This isn’t all about you, Jessica.”

  For whatever reason, her use of my first name makes me feel like an asshole.

  I put the phone back against my ear and say, “Just meet me at my apartment and we’ll go from there.”

  There’s no answer.


  “Eric?”

  I look down at the phone. The call’s already ended.

  “I wonder where I lost him,” I mutter.

  “I think around the time you told him you needed more vodka after ditching him in the bar he came to pick you up from is a pretty good guess,” she answers.

  I look out the window.

  “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” I ask.

  “You’re fucking a lot of things up,” she says.

  “Gee, thanks. That’s very helpful,” I tell her.

  “Just get your head out of your ass,” she says. “We’re all going through some shit right now, but we need to be there for Mom. That’s the important thing.”

  “I just wish I knew that she was going to be okay,” I tell her.

  “Me too,” Kristin answers.

  We pull into my building’s lot and Kristin parks in my space.

  “Call your friend back and tell him you don’t need any vodka. I’ll stay with you until he gets here,” Kristin says.

  “Why would he come?” I ask. “I haven’t exactly been the best version of myself the last couple of days.”

  “Nobody expects you to be,” Kristin says, bumping the lock button on her keychain. “Maybe just start aiming a little higher than straight down, and I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

  I feel stupid. I feel stupid and angry and depressed and helpless and I’m really not in the mood to be around myself right now, not that I have a choice in the matter.

  That’s why I wanted to drink, but it’s not helping shit.

  I tried to find a bar that reflected my feelings, but I just ended up getting bored and even more frustrated with everything.

  “Is this what you were feeling like?” I ask as we make our way into the building.

  “What do you mean?” she returns.

  “All those times I picked you up,” I explain. “Did you feel this, I don’t know, broken?”

  “Probably a different version of it,” Kristin says, “but yeah. I wasn’t doing it because I was happy.”

  “Do you want a drink?” I ask her.

  “Remember what I said about relocating your head?” she retorts.

  I smile and, as we get to my apartment door, I realize that Eric’s got the key. Unlocking my phone again, I call the number.

  “If you really want more vodka, I’ll get it for you,” he says.

  “No, that’s okay,” I tell him. “I do, however, need my key to get in. Are you close?”

  There’s the sound of a cash register opening and closing.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “I had to make a quick stop by the store,” he says. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I answer and hang up.

  Kristin and I sit against the wall.

  I turn to her, asking, “So the surgery went well?”

  “Yeah,” Kristin says, “that’s what Dad told me, anyway. He said that they were able to get what they knew was in there. The only thing they can do now is hope that they didn’t miss anything.”

  “And that’ll make her better?” I ask. “I mean, if they got everything, that’ll be the end of it and she’ll be all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Kristin answers.

  “What about chemo or radiation?” I ask. “Why haven’t they talked about doing any of that?”

  “This kind of cancer doesn’t really respond to any of that,” she answers. “The only thing they can do is go in there and pull it out.”

  “So she’s going to be fine?” I ask again.

  Kristin just looks at the ground and says, “I hope so.”

  We wait for a while and Eric eventually shows up. He’s got a brown bag in his hand, and before Kristin or I can say anything about it, he says, “I was already at the liquor store when you called. I would have just left it in the car, but that wouldn’t really have made much of a difference right now.”

  Kristin stands and helps me to my feet. Eric pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them over to me.

  “I can stay as long as you want me to,” Eric says, but as soon as the door’s unlocked, I can’t pretend like I want anyone to see me right now.

  “That’s okay,” I tell him. “Go ahead and head back home. I’ll give you a call later.”

  I don’t know if the look he’s giving me is one of disappointment or worry, but it’s definitely one of the above.

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m taking the day. I can give you a hand around the house, give you someone to talk to—I mean, I know Kristin’s here, but sometimes the more the—”

  “I’m sure,” I interrupt. I can feel myself snapping at him, but I can’t stop it.

  It’s not like we’re some serious couple or like we’re in love or anything. So far, I think we’d be pushing it to say that we’re anything more than glorified fuck buddies. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I do love him.

  With the door open, I motion for Kristin to come in, but she shakes her head.

  “I’ve got to get to the hospital,” she says and she turns to Eric. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “That’s all right,” he says. “I can just take a cab. I live in the opposite direction from where you’re going.”

  “Let me give you a ride home,” she insists. “I’ve got a little bit of time to kill. Our dad said he’d give me a call when she’s awake and he hasn’t called yet.”

  Eric looks at me and then back at Kristin.

  “If you’re sure it won’t be a problem,” he says.

  Kristin turns and gives me a hug, saying, “Remember: shower, nap, coffee, toothbrush. You’ll probably want to do it in that order, too.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter.

  As she pulls away, I can see the uncertainty in Eric’s eyes. He makes a decision and starts to move toward me, but I just turn back toward Kristin and say, “Well, I’ll see you guys later.”

  I shut the door behind me and, for a brief moment, I’m just proud of myself for not grabbing that brown paper bag from Eric’s hand.

  That pride doesn’t last long, though.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Keys to the Asylum

  Eric

  “I don’t know what to do, guys,” I tell my crew. “I know that last job was supposed to be the thing one that turned it all around for us, but people just aren’t hiring. I’m open to suggestions.”

  It’s been three days since I last saw Jessica. She’s not answering my calls or my texts.

  I stopped by her place yesterday, but she either wasn’t home or she just didn’t want to come to the door.

  Now, sitting in this booth with my crew—Alec excluded, as he’s back finishing up his thing in Jersey—eating pizza, I’m seriously considering dissolving the company.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, boss,” Ian says, “but if things don’t turn around, and I hate to say this, but, you know, we need income.”

  “I know,” I answer. “I’d hate to see that happen, but I’m not blind to reality, either.”

  “Well, it’s been fun,” the newest new guy says and gets up from the table. He drops a few bucks to cover his portion of the meal and walks away.

  None of us try to stop him.

  “Even if we could get something small, just enough to get by, maybe that would be enough to keep things going until we can find something better,” Ian says.

  “I’ve made some appointments and placed some bids,” I tell him, “but everyone’s shooting low these days. Just yesterday, I underbid a project by about twenty percent and the guy just looked at me like I was asking him to pay me in gold bullion.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” Ian says. “Maybe we’re bidding too low and people aren’t taking us seriously. I get that other guys are bidding low, too, but a lot of people won’t hire a crew that’s underbidding. They think it’s a sign that we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  “What do you think, José?” I ask.

  “I know of a job,” he s
ays, “but it’s not going to pay like we’re used to.”

  I sit up a little straighter in my seat.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “My cousin’s redoing his bathroom, countertops and cabinets, mostly, and he asked if I could help. He offered to pay, but it’s not enough for all of us.”

  “How much?” Ian asks.

  “He said five hundred, plus the cost of materials,” José answers. “It’s a one, maybe two day job with all of us, but I don’t know if it’d be worth it to bring everyone in for it. It’s a small bathroom, I don’t even think all of us would fit in there at the same time.”

  “Well,” Ian says, turning to me, “it’s something.”

  “Yeah,” I answer and take a drink of water. “It’s something.”

  “I can give him a call if you want,” José says. “If you think it’s worth our time.”

  “If nothing else,” I tell him, smiling, “we’ll be helping out your cousin. As far as I can see it, there’s no reason to turn it down while we’ve got nothing else going on.”

  José nods and gets up from his seat, pulling the phone from his pocket.

  “Have you talked to Lou?” Ian asks.

  “No,” I answer. “I’m not exactly his favorite person right now.”

  “He just got on with a crew that’s doing the new bank building on 42nd,” Ian says. “Maybe it’s time for us to start jumping on the larger jobs.”

  “It takes a bigger crew than what we’ve got, though,” I tell him. “I can’t afford to pay a bigger crew until we get a bigger job, and we can’t get a bigger job until we’ve got a bigger crew.”

  “Not necessarily,” Ian says, leaning over the table toward me. “Maybe it’s like one of those ‘if you build it, they will come,’ things. We place a bid on a bigger project and when we get it, we can hire on a few more hands.”

  “It’s a risk, though,” I tell him. “I’ve done that sort of thing before, but if we’re talking about jobs the size of what Lou’s doing, that’s going to be a lot of guys who are either new to the business or new to us. Either way, it’s going to slow us way down and if we take too long on a job like that, word’s going to spread that we can’t get shit done. Even if we finish up strong, that’s going to put us in a bad position when it comes to the next job.”